Rescue Me
by crazywriter10
Summary: Life has curve balls. Sometimes you need to be rescued. Rated for the typical MacManus language.
1. Accident

**Author's Notes: **This is my first Boondock Saints fic, and it is a sort of work in progress. Reviews are lovely, if you feel the need. Any mistakes are mine, considering I don't have a beta. Other than that, enjoy the story. Also let me know if the rating on this isn't high enough. As usual, the boys have a potty mouth.

I own absolutely nothing, except Charlie.

* * *

Charlie took the steps two at a time in an attempt to get to her apartment faster, the eviction notice balled her fist. When she reached her floor her eyes narrowed and anger crawled its way up her spine. The door to her apartment was wide open, a man and a woman inside poking around. Apparently the manager had waited the thirty days to tell her she had thirty days to pack up and leave. She should have expected it. Rick could be a downright bastard when he wanted to.

"Hey!"

The woman jumped and spun, looking at Charlie with an awkward expression of surprise and embarrassment. Then her eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Funny," Charlie said with a tight smile, "I could ask you the same thing. Actually, I will. What the hell are you doing?" She took a closer look at the man and ground her back teeth. Rick. "Rick."

The man in question turned. "Charlotte. What a pleasant surprise."

Charlie wanted to slap the damn smirk off the man's face. "What are you doing?"

"My sister needs a place to stay," Rick said, snaking his arm around the woman's waist. "So, I'm giving her your apartment. I sent you a notice a month ago."

"This, you mean?" Charlie growled, holding up the crumpled notice she'd only found that morning. "Found it today, thanks so much. You could've given me a little warning." _And a little time_, she added silently. Now she was mentally scrambling, trying to figure out where exactly she was going to go.

"I did."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. How long do I have to get my stuff and get out?"

"Oh, you mean that stuff over there?"

Charlie followed the woman's pointing finger and bristled further. There in the corner on the floor was all of her belongings piled in a heap.

"Get what you want and get out, Charlotte," Rick said. "You don't live here anymore. Technically you're trespassing."

She glared at him all the way across the room, snagging her old and durable blue backpack off the dilapidated coffee table and started stuffing the essentials in it, sorting through the pile as fast as she could, cheeks burning under the scrutiny of Rick and his "sister." It was hard to decide what not to keep since it was all that she had when she'd more than happily left home little under a year ago, fresh out of high school and eager to get out of that hellhole, and it was all that she had left. All that was her. She zipped the backpack, pausing only to pull on a gray hooded sweatshirt before slinging her bag across her shoulders. A quick look around the apartment assured her there was nothing else that she needed to take with her.

"Goodbye, Charlie." Rick was smug.

"Jackass." Charlie glared at him one last time, flipped him the set of keys she had, and started down the hall without a backward glance. When she reached the sidewalk and the chilly Boston autumn, realization slammed into her.

Not only was she utterly alone, she was also homeless. Everything that was important in her life was strapped to her back.

"Well, shit," she muttered. "What the hell do I do now?"

* * *

"So Rick tossed you out?"

Charlie looked away from the glass she was cleaning and pressed her lips together, still angry at her former landlord. "Yeah. Jackass was already moving somebody into my apartment when I found the notice. All my stuff was in the damn corner." She threw the dishrag on the counter in disgust.

"So where are you going to go?" Jenna asked, wiping down a stack of trays.

"No idea." Charlie stacked the glass next to the others. The diner wasn't a fancy place, but it had been a source of solid, reliable income since she'd left home. It was how she'd paid for the shit apartment in the first place. She leaned against the counter. "I'm thinking I might shack up in either a shelter or a church. I don't know. I really need to find someplace." She knew Jenna wouldn't offer to take her home; Jenna lived with her grandparents, her sister, her sister's two kids…there just wasn't space for Charlie at the moment, even if it would be temporary. And Charlie didn't want to be stuck as an available babysitter, either, as much as she loved Jenna.

"Just be careful of the psychos, Charlie," Jenna said with a shudder. "There's all sorts of crazy people these days. I don't want you to turn into a news story or some shit like that."

Charlie grinned. "Not on my to-do list, thanks." She looked at the clock on the wall behind her, almost ten. Outside the windows South Boston looked cold and unforgiving. Not exactly the best place for a young woman but Charlie had thick skin and, as Jenna loved to tease her about, a lot of luck. Still, she wanted to be someplace relatively safe before eleven. Just in case.

"Get outta here, Charlie." Jenna looked at the clock. "Be safe, girl."

Charlie pulled her sweatshirt over her head and grabbed her backpack, slinging it across her shoulders. "I think I'll try the church. Pretty sure I'm less likely to get molested there." She grinned at Jenna's slightly horrified face and gave the other girl a hug before bouncing out the door. The chill in the air knocked her back a little, but she pulled her hood up and went forth. She knew where she was going, for the most part, and did well to stay in the light of the street lamps until she came to a patch of street that, no matter where she looked, had large dark areas.

_Great. Just remember, Jenna doesn't wanna see your ugly mug on the news_. Smirking, she kept her pace. It was all fine and dandy until she saw a group in the shadows. She took a quick glance down an alley to her left, didn't see anything out of the ordinary, and began backing down it, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Groups could mean gangs, and gangs meant bad things. _Don't be a news story!_

Breathing a sigh of relief when she realized they hadn't seen her, she turned around as a small pop echoed off the brick walls and ran smack into somebody she clearly hadn't seen. She rubbed her sternum, ready to give whoever the hell it was a piece of her mind for not only standing in the middle of the alley but also having hard elbows only to lose her voice when he (she didn't know how she knew it was a he, she just knew it) and found herself staring into the eyeholes of a ski mask.

"Oh, shit," she breathed, her gaze refocusing on the large gun in his hand. "Oh, shit." She backed away, hands up in a non-threatening gesture, which, when she thought about it, was pretty useless considering she wasn't armed and was considerably smaller than he was.

"What the hell?" the man asked her.

"Would ye get yer fuckin' head outta yer arse!"

Charlie looked around the man and saw another dressed nearly identical, right down to the gun he carried. Things just kept getting better and better.

"We got a fuckin' witness!"

Charlie looked around stupidly before it dawned on her that she was the witness. "Shit." It seemed to be her new favorite word. Certainly described the situation perfectly.

"What the fuck do ye mean we got a fuckin' witness?" The other man turned and openly stared at Charlie.

"You know guys," she said, arms still up and backing toward the mouth of the alley, "I didn't see a damn thing so don't worry about it…" Her heart rate had settled in the past few moments but kicked up again as they swung their guns up in perfect unison in her direction. In that instant she thought for sure she was dead and only after the first three shots did she recognize the fact that they were firing _around_ her, not at her. Her brain kicked back in, informing her the safest place to be was probably behind them instead of in the line of fire. Besides, it would be easy for one of them to slip, mis-aim and "accidentally" put a bullet in her. She wouldn't put it past either of them.

She ducked, covering her head and scrambled toward them, her legs shaky and uncoordinated. There were multiple popping sounds; fire laced along her left side, spinning her off balance. She hit the ground hard, listing as she did so and took the man standing on the left with her, taking his legs out from underneath him by sheer surprise. He fell on top of her, still firing with his right while trying to disengage his limbs from hers. Adrenaline was Charlie's best friend as she shoved him off of her, the pain in her side making her eyes water and everything waver, but she crawled steadily toward the dumpster, hoping that if she made it that far she'd make it to the other end and out of the nightmare that she was currently up to her neck in.

"Murph? Where the fuck are ye?"

Charlie was pressed toward the ground as the man – Murphy – used her as leverage to get back to his feet. The popping sounds faded into background noise as she got closer and closer to her target area – the dumpster. She could use it to haul herself upright and then she could run.

She leaned against the dumpster, on her feet again by a combination of willpower and dumb luck. Her chest was heaving, side still on fire, and when she looked down to see what exactly she'd hit or had hit her, she was completely unprepared to see her gray sweatshirt stained dark with blood, and feel the wetness between her fingers.

_Great, I've been freaking shot…_ Her legs buckled and she clung to the dumpster to keep herself upright

"Where the fuck did she go?"

"There she is."

Charlie jerked at the hand on her shoulder, pushing away from the dumpster and spinning, retreating from the men in front of her, hand on her side and her mind completely scrambled except for the fact that those men had just killed a number of people and she was most likely next. And after she'd promised Jenna she wouldn't be a news story….

"Easy, easy," the one said, his hands devoid of his weapon.

"Easy?" she growled. "I finish watching you two shoot people and you want me to take it easy?" Anger was the easiest thing for her to feel, the easiest way to push away the pain and fear and try to still get out of the situation with her life. Rubber legs weren't helping, and neither was bleeding from her side.

She looked between them; they were identical from head to toe. She moved to the corner of the dumpster, feeling that since the moment she'd gotten up that morning things had steadily gone from bad to worse.

"Easy." The one on the left took a step toward her and she flinched, pressing her hand harder against her side hoping the pain would help her focus. It nearly forced her to her knees, but it cleared her head enough.

"Again with the easy!" she snapped. She was getting tired of hearing that phrase, especially from them.

"Would it help if I said we won't hurt ye?" The one took another step closer to her.

Charlie's eyes got impossibly wide as she motioned to the bodies behind them. "Won't hurt me? Is that what you said to them?" She was borderline hysterical and didn't give a damn. "And then shot them?"

The one closest to her took a look at his friend and seemed to have a conversation based on looks alone. He took another step closer. Charlie didn't dare move; she wasn't sure if her legs would hold without the dumpster's assistance. He knew that, too, considering he took another step. His friend did the same.

Charlie let her fear get the better of her and pushed off from the dumpster, taking a couple of extremely wobbly steps backward. Jenna was going to be so pissed she was going to be a news story. Maybe it was a fitting end to her day.

Her legs gave out and she landed hard on her rear, curling instinctively around her wounded side and hoping they made it quick and painless. She didn't want to suffer. Funny…she never thought she'd be curled in an alley, waiting for two masked men to put her out of her misery after simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Charlie hadn't actually given much thought to how she would die but she sure as hell never figured on something like this.

"Don't fuckin' scare her, Murph, she's already shakin' bad."

A hand touched her shoulder – Murph's probably, whoever the hell he was – and she tried to curl tighter.

"Just freakin' do it already," she croaked, her throat tight.

"Lass. Lass, open yer eyes."

Charlie bit her lip and did as she was told. She came face to face with a pair of blue eyes, the ski mask off. She took a moment to look him over, the not blonde, not brown hair, and then settled back on his eyes.

"Lass, as hard as it is ta believe, we're not goin' ta fuckin' hurt ye." He looked over his shoulder and then back at her. "Those men were fuckin' evil, and ye…ye're just a…"

"Accident." The other, a relative (they had the same eyes now that he was devoid of his own mask) said over the crouched man's shoulder.

"An accident?" Charlie tucked her arms to her chest, shaking. It was an accident that started this whole damn day. "An accident…" She looked at his blue eyes once again and saw no malice in them. She shrugged minutely, wincing, and said in a semi-agreeing tone, "An accident."

"And I think that's me fuckin' brother's handy work there," he said, reaching for her side. She retracted from him and he withdrew his gloved hand. "We want ta help ye."

"I don't know you…you're just random strangers." It was getting a little difficult to keep focus or keep her eyes open. Her adrenaline rush was wearing off.

He smiled reassuringly. "Well, we can fix that right now, can't we? I'm Connor and that idjit over there is me twin, Murphy."

Charlie smiled wanly at the face that appeared over Connor's shoulder, Murphy grinning broadly. "I'm Charlie." Her given name was reserved for people she trusted. These two might be willing to help her, but she didn't trust them.

"Aye." Connor reached once again for her side and she allowed him to inspect her sweatshirt. His face hardened. "Now will ye fuckin' let us help ye?" There was both guilt and exasperation in his voice and Charlie instinctively winced at the curse. The guilt confirmed that she hadn't been shot on purpose, a plus in her book. And when she thought about her options…well, there weren't many. Lie there and die slowly and painfully, or let them "help" her?

Charlie nodded slowly.

"There's a good lass," Connor said, helping her sit up. She tucked her arm against her side and shivered. She didn't notice Murphy behind her until he was tugging gently on her backpack. She gave it up with little protest considering it was carrying all of her worldly possessions. She wrapped her good arm around Connor's chest, prepared to have help standing, and surprised when he slipped his arm under her knees and lifted her easily against his chest. The blush still came to her cheeks; she wasn't exactly a featherweight.

Her head drooped against his collarbone, blinking owlishly at Murphy who looked a little ridiculous with her backpack on his back. Charlie must have zoned out for a while because when she refocused she was being carried through a door and into a flat that left a lot to be desired in comparison with her old apartment. Still, at least they had a home. She couldn't say the same.

Connor lowered her onto a rickety table in the small kitchenette and kept a hand on her shoulder to keep her upright. Murphy puttered with something at the stove behind her. She scanned the barren flat (an obvious bachelor pad) and found her backpack looking lost and forlorn by one of the two mattresses.

She jumped at the hand on her sweatshirt.

"Easy, Charlie."

Charlie pinned him with a stare as best she could. "That your favorite word or something?"

Connor grinned. "It is today." He sobered a bit. "I know this is a little fast for a first date, but can we take yer sweatshirt off?"

The humor fell flat but she nodded anyway. Murphy appeared on her other side in an instant, working with his brother in ridding her of her outer layer. Goosebumps flared on her arms. Murphy bent to examine the bullet wound, gently probing with his glove-less fingers. Charlie bit her lip bloody to stay silent.

"Aye, Conn, it's got ta be sealed."

Charlie refrained from looking at the damage wondering what exactly "sealed" meant.

"Ye hold her then."

Murphy took a seat in one of the rickety chairs and, much to Charlie's embarrassment, Connor assisted her off the table and onto his brother's lap. He wrapped an arm around her, pinning her own to her torso and slid a heavy thigh over both of hers. She had no wiggle room and swallowed. This was going to be painful, she knew, but being pinned so completely was a little claustrophobic.

"Remember ye said ye'd let us help ye," Connor said, twisting a dishtowel in his hands. Charlie's heart kicked its beat up. She looked behind, noticing an iron on the stove and put two and two together. She shook her head, clamping her jaw shut and struggling to break Murphy's hold on her. Connor used a pressure point to open her jaw, telling her to bite on the towel so she wouldn't hurt her tongue.

"Ye'll be okay, Charlie." He pulled her t-shirt out of the way enough to see the wound, a gouge that wouldn't have waited to get to a hospital, and hospitals asked too many questions and Connor didn't quite trust Charlie yet, though she had no clue who she'd fallen in with.

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. Murphy's other hand was gripping the towel (and a section of her hair that had come loose from her ponytail) and her mind tried to figure out which pain took precedence. The rational part of her mind that wasn't panicking completely told her it was necessary to cauterize the wound, seal it so it wouldn't get infected, but the rest of her brain was screaming like hell to get out of there. As Connor got closer to her she almost wished she'd told them to leave her in the alley. Bleeding to death couldn't possibly be as painful as this was undoubtedly going to be.

"Here we go, Charlie," Murphy whispered in her ear.

Connor touched the iron to her skin; Charlie screamed as the world exploded in fire and crashed into darkness thinking, _I'm going to die._


	2. Acquaintances

Thank you to all who read and/or left reviews. Sorry it took so long to get the second chapter, it's a work in progress and I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it. But hopefully the muses will descend and more chapters will come. Until then, enjoy.

* * *

She floated near the surface, not quite with it, not completely under, either. Even opening her eyelids took more effort than she was used to. Eventually she pried them apart, blinking away the blurriness and took a deep breath. She was curled on her side under a thin black, staring straight at her backpack, propped against two stacked mattresses. Confusion knotted her forehead until her brain kicked in enough to chase away the fog and she realized she wasn't in her own apartment. It took another moment for her to remember she didn't _have _an apartment anymore. With that disjointed images of the previous night came back to her in fits; identical men, ski masks, guns, blue eyes. Guilty blue eyes.

She took another deep breath and closed her own eyes. Her body felt as though it had been through the wringer, her emotional state nearly the same. She was currently homeless, shot, patched up with a freaking iron (that had recently come back, along with an ache in her side), and currently in someone else's bed. A snort almost escaped – this was the first time she hadn't woken up in her own bed. And, ironically, the bed belonged to half of the duo that had gotten her hurt in the first place.

_Well, you were actually in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they didn't do it on purpose, otherwise you'd be dead, _her mind supplied happily. Shoving those cheerful thoughts to the back of her head, Charlie rolled her shoulders and tried to push onto her elbow. Her side erupted in agony and she landed back on the mattress with a thump and a bitten-off yelp. _Not a good idea._

"I think sleepin' beauty's finally awake."

Charlie looked for the source of the voice as best she could without moving much, grateful when a pale, dark-haired man moved into her line of sight. She recognized the blue eyes from the night before, but his name eluded her. Her mind cheerfully supplied another image, this one being her trapped on this man's lap as the other…yeah, she didn't really need to think about that at the moment.

"Hi." Her voice was creaky.

"'Llo." He sat on the mattress across from her, moving her backpack. "How's yer pain?"

She smiled wryly. "Doesn't hurt if I don't move." That much she'd figured out. She stretched a little and winced, her bladder making its discomfort known. She couldn't even lean on her elbow, how the hell was she going to get to her feet to the bathroom? She'd have to have help. "Um…" Still his name eluded her.

"Murphy." He supplied it for her.

"Murphy." Charlie smiled a bit. "Can you…" She blushed. This was so embarrassing. "I need to use the bathroom." Her face was flaming.

Murphy didn't say anything. Instead, he peeled back the blanket and lifted her shoulders so that she was sitting up. She shivered, her side throbbing fiercely. He hooked his arms under hers and lifted her slowly. She winced again and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Sorry," she murmured, her cheeks turning redder. She'd never been that close to someone, and was grateful beyond words when he set her on her own feet and moved to her uninjured side, sliding an arm around her waist. He kept his hand well away from the cloth over her wound. From the slight breeze around her midriff, she knew exactly where her impromptu bandage had come from. Damn her blush.

"Bit of me brother's ingenuity," Murphy said with a grin.

Charlie looked around for said brother as Murphy helped her to the bathroom. She couldn't find him, and was sort of glad for that because it gave her only one person to be embarrassed around, only one person to be nervous in front of. She was definitely grateful when Murphy gave her some privacy in the bathroom. By the time she was done and had taken a good look at herself in the mirror – pale, tired eyes, and beginning to look like the homeless girl she now was – her energy was severely flagging. She leaned against the wall outside the bathroom to steady her legs, absently watching Murphy tinkering in the kitchenette.

She ran a hand over her stomach and felt part of her shirt missing on one side, wincing when she felt blood. She felt dirty, unclean. She discreetly sniffed herself and found that she did indeed sufficiently reek.

She took the moment to simply breathe, taking stock of her new position in life. She was set for the moment – she had a place to sleep, to heal, but after that was when things got sketchy. Vague. The fact that she was homeless kept ringing in her head like a church bell.

"Murph? Wha' the fuck ye doin'?"

Charlie jumped and wrapped her arm closer around her middle. Connor had just closed the door and was staring at his brother.

"Breakfast, ye twat."

"An' ye left Charlie by her lonesome by the fuckin' bathroom?"

She flushed as two blue gazes fixed on her. "I'm fine."

Twin sets of eyebrows rose. Either it was the wrong thing to say or they didn't believe her.

"Could've at least set her in the kitchen, ye fuck." Connor went to her and slid a careful arm around her waist. It was automatic to recoil from him and she forced herself to loosen up when she felt him stiffen in response. He helped her to the rickety chair and she sat, ramrod stiff and a little nervous. Sitting so straight tugged her side and, though her mother would have frowned at it, slouched a little, elbows on the table. It was neither feminine nor dignified and she didn't care. They had probably seen worse. After a look at the way they interacted, she decided _they _were probably worse.

"Ye eat eggs?"

Charlie looked at Murphy and nodded. Eggs were fine by her. Considering how loud her stomach was rumbling, she'd eat anything that was put in front of her.

Connor sat in the other chair and she looked anywhere but at him. After four consecutive glances around the kitchen, she finally had to look at him, settling on his hands. She wasn't a stranger to people with tattoos, but his was unique in its own rights: it was on his left index finger, the word _Veritas. _Charlie hadn't been much for foreign languages and took a wild stab thinking it was Latin. She didn't know why, she just had a hunch it was Latin. From there she let her eyes wander to his forearm, the large Celtic cross tattooed there.

Just who, exactly, had she fallen in with?

"There ye go." Murphy put a plate of eggs that were more burnt than not in front of her, and one in front of Connor. He accompanied his brother's breakfast with a swat to the back of the head. Connor responded in kind with a light punch to Murphy's kidney region.

_Definitely brothers, _she smirked, looking for a fork. "Fork?"

Murphy flipped two at his brother, who caught them deftly, and passed one to Charlie. She took it, and began shifting aside blackened char in search of edible eggs. Murphy may have been gentle and helpful with her, but his eggs left a lot to be desired. Still, it was food and she took small bites.

"So, Charlie," Murphy said, leaning against the counter since there were no more chairs, "where ye from?"

Charlie's cheeks turned pink. She wasn't too bit on the personal stuff; much less so because of the way things had so drastically changed. "Moved from Providence a couple years ago." It was true, too. Her mother and her had moved from Providence to Boston for a number of reasons, none of which she felt like divulging with the two, even if they had saved her from who knew what in that alley.

Connor narrowed his eyes at her and she put her fork down, avoiding his gaze and realizing that she didn't really have an appetite anymore.

"So ye live in South Boston?" Murphy seemed oblivious to what was happening at the table.

"Yup." Charlie looked up at Connor and dared him to say otherwise. There was no lie in that statement; she _did _live in South Boston. She was currently wandering a bit, that was all. The dirty feeling was back, only it didn't have anything to do with the blood-stained shirt she was still wearing. Though when she thought of that, she flinched. She had never felt so disgusting in her life.

"Ye alright, Charlie?" Connor asked quietly.

She smiled tightly. "I just…I feel a little dirty." She picked at the shirt for emphasis.

He smiled as though he understood what she meant. Then grinned openly. "Murph'll give ye a sponge bath."

Charlie's eyes widened in surprise/horror; Murphy nearly dropped his plate in order to take a swing at his brother.

"Ye fuck," Murphy said, blushing though Charlie's hue was decidedly deeper.

"That's really not necessary," she muttered, face flaming and fiddling with the hem on her shirt. She wasn't a complete invalid; she had spent a lot of time taking care of herself, she could handle washing herself just fine.

"Aye, but yer faces were fuckin' priceless!"

Charlie was oddly thankful she didn't have any siblings as she pushed her chair back. She used the table to lever herself to her feet and take an unsteady step toward the bathroom, the burn on her side pulling as she stepped. Once it healed more it wouldn't pull so much, but she could feel the tug with every shaky step she took. There was a scrape and a clatter behind her as Connor and Murphy moved simultaneously toward her. Connor got there first, and put a steadying hand on her elbow. She didn't have the energy to shake him off. Her total focus was on a new shirt and then a nap. In that order.

Halfway to the bathroom she realized that she needed her backpack.

"I need my backpack."

Murphy retrieved it without a word and when their little parade reached the bathroom she was nearly mortified that they both followed her in, dwarfing her in the small space. If she'd been claustrophobic she'd have started hyperventilating.

"Guys," she tried as Connor started the water. "Look…just…" Her communication skills were absolutely fabulous at the moment. She had a winning personality and the correct amount of chattiness when working tables but trying to convince two grown Irishmen that she was perfectly capable of washing herself seemed to be escaping her at the moment. She temporarily gave up and wrapped her arms around her middle, leaning against the wall by the door.

Charlie had to admit that it had been a _long _time since someone had offered to take care of her…She shoved the thought to the back of her head and did her best to stay still and composed as the water was shut off.

"I really think I can handle this," she said, eyes darting between Murphy and Connor. _Give me this, please. _

Murphy shoved his brother out the door. "If ye need anythin' just yell."

She smiled thinly and nodded. The door closed behind him and she sank down onto the toilet lid. Again their kindness and willingness to help her was astounding. They could have left her for dead in the alley along with the…other…dead bodies. She shivered. Whoever they were there was no doubt they were dangerous but…it just didn't make sense. If they didn't want her alive they would have killed her then and there, either quickly or leaving her to bleed out.

Trying to figure them out was giving her a headache. Instead, she stood and, avoiding her reflection in the mirror, tried to figure out how she was going to get out of her shirt without doing damage to herself. It was an interesting, awkward process involving as much flexibility as she could manage without tearing anything, and she finally got her shirt off. With her clothes folded neatly on the toilet lid she'd abandoned, she felt utterly self-conscious in her nudity though the door was firmly shut. She stepped carefully into the tub, the water a little on the cool side, and sat on the edge, unwilling to completely submerge. She didn't think it would be good for her side.

And how the hell was she going to wash her hair?

A pounding on the door startled her. She reflexively crossed her arms over her breasts and looked over her shoulder, waiting for the door to open.

"Ye alright?" Connor's voice came through the door loud and clear.

_Recovering from a minor heart attack but otherwise I'm fine, _she mused with a sigh. "I'm fine." She just wished she'd start looking like it.

* * *

Murphy was absently chewing his thumb nail as he sat on the couch, waiting for the bathroom door to open. What the hell was she doing in there anyway? She'd just wanted to get clean. Getting clean for him was ten minutes in the shower, tops. Less than that if the hot water had decided to run out. Connor had finally knocked a few minutes ago to see if she'd drowned or something and he'd gotten a "I'm fine" in response.

Maybe she had drowned.

The door opened and she stepped out, her hair wet and down her back. She was dressed in sweatpants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt, pale as moonlight and looking like she was going to fall over with the help of a stiff breeze. He was on his feet before he was aware he was moving.

"Good Lord, guys," she muttered, leaning against the wall. She'd protest the show of chivalry if her body had been feeling it because it was beginning to become too much. Her backpack dragged on the floor and she surrendered it without a fight. She took Murphy's proffered arm with a withering glare in his direction, protesting when he led her in the general direction of the mattress she'd woken up on. He changed course and she ended up on the couch, sandwiched between the two. The claustrophobic feeling was creeping back.

The TV looked like it had seen better days and was probably older than the three of them put together. She elbowed for enough room to raise her arms, braiding her long brown and letting it lay on her shoulder. She glanced briefly to see who had control of the remote and decided that she hadn't watched enough TV in her life to really care what they settled on.

Some sort of _Law and Order,_ in the end, courtesy of Murphy stealing the remote from his brother over her head.

Charlie kept her arms wrapped loosely around her middle and leaned her head back against the cushions, her eyes droopy. She remembered then that she really had wanted a nap after her shower/bath-thing, but couldn't seem to find the energy to make it over to one of the mattresses and she'd be damned if one them was going to carry her yet again. Chivalry was great, but she was a young woman who'd been on her own long enough to care for herself.

Murphy prodded her gently on her good side. She almost jackknifed off the couch in surprise – not to mention it tickled. It was reflex to swat him on the shoulder, shifting more toward Connor until her thigh ran into his and she automatically moved away. Did the two not know the meaning of personal space?

"Awake?" Murphy asked, not bothering to hide his grin.

"Yeah," she said dryly, "thanks so much."

She wrapped her arms loosely around her middle again, leaning her head against the back of the couch and sinking down. She definitely wanted that nap.

A sense of calm descended, though she was still a little boxed in by the two of them. She sighed and let her eyes close. It was only going to last so long. Good things only lasted so long.

Connor didn't so much as twitch when she slumped to the side, resting against his shoulder. He flipped his brother the bird at Murphy's raised eyebrows, oddly content. Still, there was a nagging feeling in his gut. She wasn't telling them something. Wasn't telling them everything.

Murphy met his eyes over her head. "I know exactly what ye mean."

And it irked the both of them.


End file.
